CHAPTER 171: NATHALIE PRESENCES IN THE OFFICE

In the office.

Ever since Beauty returned to work at Marson Corporation, Lucas had been spending significantly more time in his office.

In the days when she was absent, he would head back to the villa as soon as his work was done.

But now, whenever he had a spare moment, he lingered in the office.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

Beauty set aside her work and walked over to answer it.

Standing outside was Nathalie, dressed in a black-and-white suit, her straight hair tied into a high ponytail.

The hairstyle paired with the loose-fitting outfit gave Beauty an uncanny sense of déjà vu—as if she had seen this look somewhere before.

"Beauty, you’re back at the company?

Is President Marson in his office?

I need to discuss something with him."

At the sight of Nathalie, Beauty’s good mood instantly evaporated.

After what had happened at the villa last time, she had grown even more averse to the woman.

Yet here she was, chasing after Lucas all the way to the office.

*She must really be head over heels for him.*

Was her presence here interrupting something between them?

"President Marson is inside.

Please go ahead."

Beauty stepped aside, ready to leave.

She had no desire to witness any intimate moments between the two.

Rumors had already spread through the executive assistant’s office.

On her very first day back, she had heard that Nathalie often stayed late in the president’s office after hours—sometimes for over two hours at a time.

No one dared to knock during those periods, and no one knew what exactly went on inside.

*Two hours?*

*More than enough time to get things done.*

Who would’ve thought Lucas had a thing for office affairs?

Just stepping into the room now made her stomach churn.

"Beauty, we have a guest.

Serve the tea."

Just as she was about to flee, an icy voice from behind froze her in her tracks.

She turned her head and shot Lucas a frosty glare.

"What now?

I’m your personal assistant, not some tea-serving maid.

I still have to visit the project team!"

Beauty, stomped into the office with obvious reluctance, her face set in a cold mask, showing no deference whatsoever.

Lucas remained unperturbed, merely raising an eyebrow languidly.

"Personal assistants do serve tea.

Have you forgotten the assistant handbook after just a few days off?

Should I ask Lena to fetch you another copy?"

Though his words carried reprimand, his tone dripped with indulgence—not a trace of actual scolding.

He lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, lifting his gaze to meet hers with deliberate nonchalance.

Beauty seethed inwardly, grinding her teeth, yet forced a smile onto her face—one so strained it looked more painful than sincere.

"What would you two like to drink?

Tea, coffee, or perhaps juice?

We’ve got everything," she asked through gritted teeth.

Lucas paused for two seconds, then smirked.

"A latte for me, half sugar.

And a brown sugar macchiato for Director Nathalie."

"Yes, President!" Beauty replied with exaggerated sarcasm, meeting his teasing gaze head-on before shooting him a venomous glare.

She snatched the cups from the table and marched to the sink, clattering them noisily against the porcelain.

Watching her petite figure storm off, Lucas’s lips curled further.

"Careful with those cups, Assistant Beauty.

They were a gift from a client.

Don’t break them."

"I’ll buy you a new one if I do!"

Her retort was swift and icy, followed by even louder banging as she scrubbed the cups with unnecessary force, clearly venting her frustration.

On the sofa, Nathalie frowned slightly, casting a puzzled glance at Lucas.

Her delicate brows arched in silent questions.

A faint smile played on his lips.

"What’s gotten into You and Beauty?"

"Women have their moody days.

We all know that," came the casual reply.

The words left Nathalie speechless.

She had never dared throw tantrums or act petulant in front of him.

Obedience was second nature to her—every word he uttered was law, every gesture scrutinized for fear of displeasing him.

Yet this little nobody actually had the audacity to sulk in his presence?

Had Lucas been spoiling her like this since childhood?

A pang of jealousy twisted inside her, though her face maintained its practiced mask of understanding and nonchalance.

She’d tried so hard to mold herself in Amelia’s image—mimicking her speech, her wardrobe, even her hairstyle.

Whenever with Lucas, she became a different person entirely.

Yet still, she couldn’t capture his heart.

"Please enjoy your tea.

If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave."

As she turned to go, Lucas’s gaze flicked up, pinning her with a look.

"Leaving so soon?

Go wash some fruit.

Director Nathalie prefers bananas.

As for my preference... you should know."

Beauty stiffened, shooting him an icy glare.

"Of course I know.

Cherries, right? I’ll get them.

Grown man with a taste for such girly fruit..."

The words "you freak" died on her lips.

She slammed the office door behind her, cheeks burning with fury.

So he even knew what fruit she liked?

The thought made her want to take those very bananas and grind them into pulp—with Lucas’s face in mind.

Seated perfectly upright on the sofa, legs crossed at the knees, Lucas waited until Beauty left before speaking with sudden formality: "What brings you here?"

Nathalie’s smile didn’t waver as she produced an interview dossier from her bag.

"Resumes from yesterday’s candidates.

A certain Hannah claims you referred her.

I came to verify." Lucas took the documents from her hand, his brows slightly furrowed as he carefully scanned the text before nodding.

"That’s right.

She was recommended by a friend, so I assigned her to the branch office.

Didn’t you mention a while ago that there was still a vacancy for a designer assistant?

What do you think of her?" Nathalie’s expression softened into a faint smile as she took a delicate sip of her coffee.

"She’s quite outstanding in every aspect—a design major, so she should adapt quickly.

I just didn’t expect you to remember such a small detail."

"Work-related matters are never trivial to me."

Lucas lifted his coffee cup for a sip just as the door swung open.

Beauty stepped in, carrying a tray of freshly washed fruit.

His sharp eyebrows arched slightly.

"Of course, *your* matters are important to me as well."

Beauty’s arm jerked, sending a cherry tumbling to the floor.

She immediately bent down to pick it up, clutching it in her palm before setting the fruit tray on the table.

"Mr. Lucas, these cherries were just airlifted in.

I’m sure you’ll love them." With that, she held out the very cherry that had just hit the floor—now pressed against Lucas’s lips—her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Nathalie’s face darkened, her fingers tightening imperceptibly.

Yet her voice remained composed as she glanced at Beauty.

"I saw that cherry fall earlier.

Isn’t it a bit... unhygienic to feed it to Mr. Marson like this?"

"What’s the big deal?

A little dirt never hurt anyone!

Besides, I picked it up within a second—and I wiped it on my clothes.

It’s perfectly clean."

Fully aware of Lucas’s notorious germaphobia, she dangled it right in front of him just to spite him.

*Serves him right for cozying up to another woman behind my back!*